


I Was All Over HIm

by SuicunesRibbonButt



Category: Pocket Monsters: Gold & Silver & Crystal | Pokemon Gold Silver Crystal Versions
Genre: M/M, Other, Sacredshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuicunesRibbonButt/pseuds/SuicunesRibbonButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whitney can't stand her crush on Morty, knowing they could never be together due to Morty being seemingly uninterested, so she goes to Eusine for answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Was All Over HIm

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing I wrote for class. Mention of Whitney's family life and hinted abuse. A few little headcanon things like the first letter of Eusine's last name and living situations and the like. Tried to add names in for clarity, I originally didn't have any of the characters named besides Whitney. Also tried to change most animal mentions to Pokemon counterparts, so sorry if it reads a bit wonky in some places. I didn't want to make it TOO AU. Starts out with Whitney referring to Morty as "you" but changes eventually to show distance.

As I lay in bed, I swore the air I was breathing was as thick and heavy as it was on our last date. Mid-August, the sun beat down and burned our ghostly skin as I climbed a tree and you kicked some rocks around on the beach. 

“I love coming here.” You kept looking down at the rocks and dried weeds covering the lakeshore. I scratched my ankle on the bark of the tree. It was bleeding, but I didn’t make a sound. The wound would scab up, crusty with blood around the edges, a little moist with puss near the middle, and I’d just pick it off later. 

You threw your shirt and shoes off and went running into the disgusting green lake. It was so murky; I couldn’t see any part of you that was under the water. You screamed at me to come in, come in, but I didn’t move. I watched you float on your back, bits of algae covering your chest. God, did you look so beautiful in that water. From up in the tree, I could see the mark on your clavicle. Pale purple, speckled like some sort of exotic fruit we could only hope but taste one day. I think I started crying a little, but it was so warm that day, I might have just been imagining it. 

As I started to get down, you ran out of the water in an effort to help me. Did you think you were stronger than me just because you’re a man?

“Don’t touch me, Morty” 

My legs stuck to your leather car seats, creating pools of sweat under my thighs. I rested my head on the side, facing the window, so I didn’t have to see you. I knew exactly where that mark was from. You went over train tracks; my forehead hit the window with a bump, leaving a greasy mark. Your car’s air conditioning didn’t work. Neither did the passenger side window. You didn’t look over at me once. You just kept driving forward. 

My mom’s calls were never answered. Morty’s calls were never answered. I was surprised my mom even tried calling me. She never really called me before. I always thought she was a witch. I used up almost all my vacation days at work. I didn’t need them, anyway. My clothes were approaching a week old. I pulled a loose string from the edge of my left sleeve. The whole hem came undone and I cried. I can’t remember when I got out of bed, if it was dusk or dawn. Either way, birds were chirping. 

It was September by time I called his friend. They’ve known each other for years; they grew up with each other. They went to different schools, but they remained close. I envied that. I’ve known him for no time compared to the other. 

“Can I meet you? For, I don’t know, lunch or something? I’ll buy you coffee. Even if you don’t want it. I’ll buy it for you.”   
“Yeah, I suppose.” His voice was breathy and nasally. I never liked it. 

The day we met at the diner, it was storming. Wet leaves covered my windshield and would get caught in the wipers from time to time. I drove past two cars, one t-boned by the other. A woman sat in a puddle crying. I tried not to look for too long. There was broken glass everywhere. If there was any blood, the downpour would have washed most of it away by now. My car was old, the brakes squeaked in the rain as I slowed down to pull into a parking spot. His red sedan was there. It was probably his mom’s car, I thought to myself. I noticed I parked on the lines. I couldn’t be bothered to get back in and straighten out. My bangs stuck to my forehead, stringy and dripping. The carpet usually used for wiping dirty shoes on before entering the diner was soaked with mud and sloshed as I put a foot on it. My socks felt just as wet as the carpet, my feet were freezing If I was lucky, I would have to get my toes amputated from frostbite, though it wasn’t nearly cold enough. 

Daytime shows played on the TVs on the wall, quiet, with white subtitles neatly scrolling on the bottom. A woman looked like she was screaming, but it sounded like just a murmur. I didn’t care enough to read the subtitles. That woman meant nothing to me. 

His hair was slicked back, a cowlick sticking out, seemingly undisrupted from the rain. He didn’t look up when I sat down across from him. He was looking at his phone, reading a news article on an issue he would pretend to care about and try to converse with me about later as he shoved a piece of coffee cake in his mouth like it was his last meal. 

“I don’t get it. He called me a few days at first, and then he just stopped.”   
“I told him to stop bothering you. He was stupid for trying to call you. He was stupid for even getting involved with you. You’re stupid too, for falling for it.” He poured a pack of sugar on the table before licking his finger and dipping it in the small mountain he created. He put that sugar-covered finger in his mouth. I tried not to gag at his lack of table manners. 

“It felt good to get out today, even if I did get soaked.” My hair was parted with grease from the rain, finally starting to dry a little. A waitress dropped a coffee cup. She cussed and slammed a fist against the nearby wall. 

“He won’t go out with you, you know. He’s done, no more. Trust me, I know. I know damn well.” I couldn’t remember what I said after I heard those words. He spoke at a normal volume, yet it seemed like he was screaming at me. “You can try and do all you want to get him, but you’ll look pathetic trying.” He rested a hand on his face, his pinky hovering just below his bottom lip. “You made me meet you here for something stupid we could have just talked about on the phone. Now do me a favor and come home with me, would you, Whitney?” 

I didn’t know what his intentions were. I knew for sure he didn’t want sex, he told me before I looked like a pig and then there was the fact that he was supposedly involved with someone at the moment. It could have been anything else, though. The slime oozed out of his every pore. I couldn’t understand what people saw in him. He was loyal. That had to be about it, though. He couldn’t even hold his alcohol. 

“Can you drive me back here after? My car is in the lot.”   
“I’d be happy to.” 

The inside of his car looked like it would belong to a smoker. The cloth seats had a few coffee stains on them, the ashtray was open and filled with sugar packets and green pennies, the passenger door couldn’t be opened from the outside, there was a stack of yellowing newspapers in the backseat. 

“Here, you kinda have to yank it a bit.” He reached over me and tugged the seatbelt a few times before handing the clicker to me to finish buckling myself in. I noticed the rain stopped, the gutter of the diner was still dripping. 

“I need you to help me look for something.”   
“What kind of something?”  
“I think it’s in the basement of my apartment, but everyone has so much shit down there I don’t even know what’s mine anymore.”  
“Oh. You never answered my question.”   
“I don’t care.” 

The alleyway to his apartment was full of cracked concrete. His car had no shocks or something. I swear I got a mild concussion as he sped through. I noticed a dead tree sticking out of someone’s yard. At least I thought it was dead, it was too early for the trees to be bare. There was a single leaf hanging on for life on a bottom branch. It fell off when the car whipped by. 

I can’t remember what he said, or how I reacted, but he yelled when I got out of the car and stood motionless in a puddle. 

I tracked wet, muddy footsteps on the linoleum of the basement landing when we walked in. He didn’t seem to make a big deal out of it. I guess the floor there was usually pretty dirty. Anything would have been clean compared to the floor in the basement, though. It was as if there was a thin layer of dust covering the whole concrete floor, little piles of dirt, likely mixed with dead skin cells of tenants that have been gone for years, decorating some corners. An old rusty bike hung by a single big nail on the wall looked like it was ready to disintegrate. 

“It’s over there.” He shocked me by talking. I turned towards him, a bit confused. “That cedar chest. I have some stuff in there. You go through that and I’ll look in the cabinet over there.” The chest was probably filled with snakes. 

I crouched down next to it, careful to not rest any part of myself on that disgusting floor, though I probably wouldn’t have cared if I wasn’t wet from the rain. I just didn’t want to be caked with dirt, though I probably deserved to be. It took a little force to get the chest open, but when it did open, the air around me flooded with a familiar cedar smell. Just like the cedar chest my mom had, that she always told me that I couldn’t open but did anyway, only to find her wedding dress, old linens, dinosaur figurines my brother stashed in there years ago, and a small white box filled with ashes of a dead Pokemon I never knew. The smell made me think of disappointment and my mom’s violent yelling. “You’re gonna slam your hand in it. Don’t let your sister get near it. Close it. There’s nothing of value in there. I’m gonna bury you in that chest if you keep opening it.” Then she would continue cooking watery scrambled eggs that she would equally distribute to us at lunch, and I would give most of mine to my brother. I was chubby and didn’t need them. 

This was a different chest, though. No wedding dress or dead pets. Just photo albums, folders, Ziploc bags of old Hot Wheels, flowers poorly pressed in wax paper, and a paperback book titled “Level 7 Vocabulary Workbook for the High School Student.” His name was written in neat cursive across the top. “Eusine D.” I thought about yelling over to him, asking what it is exactly I was looking for, but I knew he still wouldn’t answer me. I just started pulling things out, afraid that dead moths would fall out of the papers and onto my legs. 

I flipped through a photo album. He didn’t look happy in many of the pictures. I mean, he was smiling, but I could tell it wasn’t genuine. His dad’s hand was placed uncomfortably on his shoulder in a few vacation pictures, his mom beaming, two little sisters one grabbing onto mom and the other onto dad. There was nothing special about the pictures. I never had pictures like these, but I knew they were common. I knew they weren’t what he was looking for. 

What caught my eye was a folder, underneath all the photo albums, a picture of two Snubull puppies on it; corners worn out, one of the puppies with a big white line of wear right through its middle, a little sticky in some spots from old highlighter scribbles. When I opened it, I saw that the pockets weren’t attached. There was just loose leaf sheet after loose leaf sheet stacked inside. I recognized the handwriting. My throat felt like it was going to close up. Letters dated back 7 years. Lines from being folded still imprinted on the paper. Crude drawings. Most of them were love notes. There were a few photographs, with the date in the lower right hand corner in orange, numbers like a digital clock. Him and Morty. They were young, but not overly young. Fresh out of high school. They were drunk in some, pressed up against each other, only the top lip of the booze bottle visible. Others, though, they weren’t drunk in, but they were just as intimate. I started reading some of the notes. I let myself collapse on the dirty floor, where I should have been this whole time. I thought I was a piece of shit for thinking of my own disgusting happiness. Before I knew it, he was crouching next to me, pulling his phone out and showing me picture after picture of them together recently, both beaming, genuinely looking happy, something I was worried I would never be, or so I thought. I felt dizzy. I couldn’t get the pictures in focus. All I allowed myself to clearly see were his greasy fingerprints on the screen. 

“I’m sorry, Whitney.” He had no emotion in his voice. I’ve never heard him be so monotone before. I realized I had no control over anything. 

As he drove me back to the diner, I made him stop in the alley so I could try to find the last leaf that fell off the dead tree. It wasn’t there. Or at least, I couldn’t find it.


End file.
